Wrong
by Dlvvanzor
Summary: It should have been Mello. This? This was wrong. MxM, alternating Matt/Mello POV. Rated for some flashback content, but it's not too detailed.
1. Matt

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, 'Unchained Melody,' or any of the other songs mentioned in this fic.

**It's MxM, although there's not much actual contact. I don't write that 'hetero' stuff anymore, although this was dangerously close, let me tell you.**

***********************************************************

I looked at the girl in front of me, smiling and stunning in her elaborate white dress, holding both my hands. She squeezed, and my smile increased. A small bunch of hair had escaped and was hanging over her ear. She had probably done that on purpose. Either way, it was cute.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I met my... my _wife's_ beautiful lips and kissed her sweetly, and all of our friends and (her) family applauded. Even the priest looked happy. My side of the church was noticeably smaller than hers, although most of Wammy's House showed up. It was the first time a graduate of Wammy's had actually gotten married. That says something about Wammy's House, in my opinion. Like, maybe they breed really screwed-up people. If Mello, Near, and I are anything to go by... and don't forget B...

Anyway. Wow. Married. Hadn't predicted _that_ one. I mean... how often do gamers get the girl? Not often, let me tell you.

I held her hand tight as we walked down the aisle the _other_ way this time, beaming, and lined up for the part where we hug everyone in the known universe. Mello, best man, looking uncomfortable in his tux but grinning and almost teary-eyed (wow, huh?!), hugged me hard. "Congratulations, Matt," he murmured, pulling back to look at me. "She's a great girl. You're gonna be so happy."

He let go, then hugged her much more gently, and I lost sight of him in the masses.

Unbidden, my mind snapped back to five years prior.

-

_'Matt, you think you'll ever get married?'_

_The redhead smiled and replied, chuckling. 'Only if they make it legal.'_

_The blond rolled his eyes and kissed his companion quickly. 'But seriously.'_

_Matt frowned and sat up, pulling the sheets up with him to cover his naked lower body, leaving enough slack for the other to do the same. 'Mello, I _am_ serious. I can't see me wanting anyone else but _you_. It's just... weird... when I try. I dunno.' He shrugged._

_Mello sat up too and looked him straight in the eye. His piercing blue gaze burned through the younger male's flesh and ribcage and straight to his heart, which sped up._

_'I love you,' he said simply._

_'I love you too.'_

_He kissed him again and put a finger on the gamer's chin. He laid back down, drawing him after, and they lay on their sides, kissing tenderly, their lips moving together, perfect and in sync._

_'So when you meet some girl and fall madly in love with her-'_

_Matt cut him off. 'Mello, it's not gonna happen. Especially not a girl. But... I'll always want you.'_

_Mello smiled a small, sad smile. 'Okay, Matt.'_

_Matt bumped him gently on the forehead with his own. 'I'm not lying.'_

_'I _said_ okay,' the blond laughed quietly. _

_Matt open his mouth to protest further but Mello caught it with his own and silenced him._

-

I shuddered. I hadn't had thought about that in a long time. Well, Mello _was_ always right.

I hugged my wife's old grandmother who looked like she would Keehl, I mean keel, over at any moment. I hugged all twenty of her neurotic cousins, and her uncle. I also hugged her uncle's boyfriend. When the line came to the Wammy's House people, the hugs got really odd really fast. Roger's was proper but not insincere. Near touched me like a breeze of wind. Linda clung onto my neck and sobbed for a good minute before I peeled her off, thanking her for coming. She clung to my wife after that, and the trooper clung right back until Linda let go. Totally backed up the line, though.

When they had passed, the line was finally done, and my wife laughed her beautiful, light laugh. "Matt, you have strange friends."

My eyes went wide and I nodded fervently in agreement. "Explains a lot, huh?" I grinned. She kissed me for being funny.

When she drew back, the fact that her hair wasn't bright yellow startled me.

What was going _on_?

We signed our papers, and finally we were able to join our guests at the reception.

We had rented a high-ceilinged place designed especially for this purpose, and it seemed to be going well. My new wife loved to dance, so we hit the dance floor immediately, generally making fools of ourselves. I can't dance. Big surprise. At least _she _thinks it's cute that I still try. Many of our guests danced as well, (three of her cousins got really drunk almost immediately and started dancing the YMCA to Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing') but, besides Linda who had attached herself to my wife's uncle's boyfriend (apparently she hadn't gotten the memo- my wife's uncle looked very amused), very few of them were from my side. But I didn't mind. I mean, seriously... picture Near dancing. No. I think I've only seen him even _standing_ like... twice. Ever.

My wife informed me playfully that she would be dancing with her maid of honor for the next song and told me that I'd be required to dance with my best man. She had always been incredibly fond of Mello for reasons that neither Mello nor I could fully understand. She was also pretty into yaoi (adored her uncle), so I imagine that she just got off on the idea of me dancing with a man.

I don't think she saw me stiffen. But he was my best friend. He happened to be my ex, too, a fact I was acutely aware of at this particular moment, but she didn't know that and it was hardly relevant anyway. It totally didn't matter. And honestly I wouldn't have even felt uncomfortable about it if I hadn't had that flashback.

No, it would be fine.

She must have told Mello about this before she told me, because Mello walked up to me, grinning, and held out a hand. "May I have this dance?" he asked in his best British accent, which was actually really good because we had _grown up in Winchester_. Together.

I nodded, smiling despite my confusion, and automatically took the hand. The motion was easy, accustomed, habitual. Our hands fit together perfectly. Naturally the song my wife had chosen was a slow song (yaoi freak- I wondered if I should tell her I wouldn't mind kissing a guy for her). But it wasn't her fault. I had never told her any of it.

I _would_ have believed that Mello had chosen the song, and on purpose, if I didn't _know_ him and if I hadn't noticed his miniscule flinch when the all-too-familiar lyrics came on. Oh all the songs in the _world_...

'Oh, my love, my darling-'

-

_'-I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time...'_

_They were sitting, of all places, on the porch swing in the backyard of Wammy's House. Matt hadn't known there was a swing, to be honest. He didn't go outside more than was absolutely necessary._

_It was necessary that day, though, because Mello had asked him if he wanted to, which meant that Mello wanted to, which meant that Matt would do it in a heartbeat._

_Matt was in Mello's arms, now, and his head was over his heart. The older male was stroking his hair, the redhead's ever-present goggles around his neck. Where his ear was, pressed against the black cotton as its owner held him tight, he could hear him clearly as he sang, even though it was almost inaudible. '-And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much-'_

-

'Are you still mine?'

No, Mello would never have done that to me on purpose.

'I need your love, I need your love. Godspeed your love to me. Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea, to the open arms of the sea, yeah. Lonely rivers sigh, wait for me, wait for me, I'll be coming home, wait for me.'

When the chorus repeated and the song came to an end, neither of us was smiling. We were still dancing, and his presence was electrifying, and his arms around me and his hands on me felt much, much too right. We separated at the appropriate time and he strapped on the fakest grin I had ever seen from him in all the years I'd known him.

"Man Love moment," he joked.

I just nodded. I didn't trust my voice.

My bride chuckled and took my hands, and soon we were dancing, and Mello was hitting on my wife's sister, the maid of honor.

Like all things, the dancing eventually came to an end, and everyone began to leave when the attendants started pointedly stacking chairs.

-

She couldn't get the key to our hotel room to work, so she gave it to me. It responded instantly to me.

"That's my husband. God of all things technological."

I was still sensitive about that 'g' word, after all that Kira business. But she didn't know I had been involved in that.

...What _had _I told her?

She curled her fingers in with mine and drew me into our room. She closed the door with a foot and wrapped her arms around my neck.

She kissed me, as she had a thousand times before, but there was something different in it this time- baser. More sexual.

Her dress had been white, and it hadn't been a lie. She had wanted to wait until she was married.

And now we were.

Soon, the night saw me kissing her passionately in our room of the hotel, running my hands all over her soft, very feminine body, laying her gently on the bed, whispering nothings to her. She told me that she was going to slip into something more comfortable and I let her up, and she disappeared to the bathroom.

I sat down on the bed and let my feet rest on the floor. I was still wearing my tux so I slipped it off and tossed it aside. I put my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands.

-

_Hands, lips, panting. Mello was over him, Mello was all around him, he could feel the humid breath on his face, and their bodies were moving together and they weren't quiet about it at all. Gasping and grunting and moaning and sighing; the older boy made them release together in a sticky-sweet orgasm that sent stars through Matt's corneas, and when it was over he lay right on top of the younger male, fighting for his oxygen, and Matt could feel his heartbeat and the slickness of his beautiful body and he could have cried for the love of him and-_

_'Matt,' he whispered. 'I never told you. My real name is Mihael.'_

_'Mail,' the redhead replied promptly._

_'Yes, I'm male...' he said amusedly. 'As I would think you would be painfully aware.'_

_'No, I mean, my name is Mail. Like the postal service.'_

_'Seriously?'_

_'Yep.'_

_Mello burst out laughing and rolled off of him, clutching his gut. 'What were your parents thinking?!'_

_Matt shrugged and cuddled into him, but Mello couldn't stop laughing, and apologizing for laughing._

-

Had I told her my real name??

My wife came out in very small and very sexy pastel purple lingerie. I smiled at her and she walked to me smoothly, placing herself on my lap. She kissed me, and I could taste how much she loved me.

She pulled back. "Matt? What's wrong?" Apparently I hadn't. Told her my real name, I mean. A little late now.

_She _must have tasted my tears, unshed but barely, before I was aware that I was in danger of them. She really did love me.

I pulled her back to me and buried my face in her neck, stroking her hair, and finally I couldn't hold it back anymore.

I cried.

"Matt?" She repeated my 'name' over and over again, questioningly, soothingly, but I never answered her.

I cared for her. I did. Really. She was beautiful, she was gentle, she was fun, and she was kind. She was everything I had ever wanted in another person, and she loved me deeply. She was the perfect choice for me- for my best friend, for my lover, for my partner, for my wife. No, I hadn't made a mistake.

But damned if I didn't wish she were the one I loved.


	2. Mello

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, Unchained Melody, Chocolat, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Johnny Depp (darn!) or anything else that I don't own. My friend Alli came up with the idea for the 'Hello Mello' scene that you'll see...**

**A/N: This was originally a oneshot, but Skele-gro commented that there should be a sequel from Mello's perspective. Whether a serious suggestion or an errant thought, I liked the idea, and this emerged. Hope you like it! :D**

**Broke my own heart. :'(**

**Warnings: Mello's language, sexual themes.**

MxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxMxM

"And do you take Matt to be your lawfully wedded husband; to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

Damn it. I let him marry her. I actually let it happen.

Sure, she was a nice girl, but...

_I _wanted him! He was supposed to be _mine._

-

_'Mello... I can't do this.'_

_The blond froze in his tracks. He couldn't... he _couldn't_ be..._

_Matt's face was grim, set, determined. There was no arguing with that face. He _was_._

_'I love you, but-' he started. 'I do!' he protested, interrupting himself when Mello snorted. 'I do, Mello. Really. But I can't _live_ with you. You're... impossible.'_

_He gave him plenty more reasons, but Mello's brain couldn't compute another word that the redhead said. When he finally stopped talking, Mello nodded blankly. 'Alright.'_

_Matt studied him. 'Really?'_

_Mello shrugged, but it was a forced movement. 'I can't make you stay, Matt.'_

_Matt's whole face became the picture of relief. 'We're still friends, right?'_

_The leather felt heavier than it ever had, heavier even than years ago when it was on fire, melding into his skin. Tighter, too. He smiled weakly. 'Of course. We've been friends forever. That's never gonna change.'_

-

I had politely ended that conversation and gone back to our apartment, which had then suddenly become _my _apartment, only to find that he had already packed. I wanted to cry but I couldn't because he was right behind me, apparently reassured by my promise of friendship. It was odd that he couldn't tell for once what I was feeling (like I was going to break into a million little pieces): he was probably being dense on purpose. If he _had_ let himself see it, he never would have been able to leave. Assuming that part about 'I still love you' was true.

Anyway, I managed to hold it in until he closed my front door.

No promises after _that_ though.

It... wasn't pretty.

We're still friends now, of course. Matt and Mello. Mello and Matt. We've always been together in one way or another, and even my completely shattered heart couldn't come between us. Further proof that we're meant to be _more_ than what we are right now. More than best friends.

And I had just let him marry his girlfriend, so we never would be.

"You may kiss the bride."

He did, and everyone clapped, and there was much rejoicing, and _I_ wanted to vomit. It was beautiful, and he was _so happy_, but... this _girl_.

As best man (and yes, I _was_ best man, great huh?) I was first in the line to hug him.

"Congratulations, Matt," I murmured. I let go to look at him. He hadn't changed. He was just fine without me in his life _that_ way. He looked happier that I'd ever seen him. Happier than _I_ had ever made him. "She's a great girl." And she was. "You're gonna be so happy." And he would.

I hugged his wife next, more gently than I had hugged him, and wondered briefly if she was as good in bed as I was. If she _was_, she deserved a _medal_. I had made Matt _scream_, writhe, sweat, pant, cry out my name. And that was one of the rare nights when _he _had been on top.

I'm just that skilled.

"Treat him good," I mumbled to her.

She smiled gently. "I will."

She had approached me a week ago, telling me she was going to have a groom/best man and bride/maid of honor dance. I wasn't looking forward to that, obviously, but I wasn't going to make a scene. She told me she hadn't told Matt yet, and not to talk to him about it.

And... it did sound nice, in a way. Holding him for maybe four minutes or so under the guise of mandatory dancing.

Desperate and kind of pathetic, no?

My emotions clouded my attention and I found myself at the reception. It passed in a blur until he and his... his _wife_... made their grand entrance. They skipped most of the formalities in favor of more dancing time: you could tell by how she moved that she loved it. Even Matt danced, and despite my personal angst it made me laugh. He really is terrible. He has no sense of rhythm. Or tone. Or tune. It's bad. And fucking hysterical.

The time for our dance came too soon. His wife nudged me and grinned, and I rolled my eyes, smiling back.

I made a big show of offering Matt my hand, letting my old British accent slip through. "May I have this dance?"

Electricity when our fingers touched. I doubt he felt it, but it made my knees go weak.

They nearly gave in when the music started.

It was that song. _That_ song. The one I used to sing to him because I thought it was pretty and he thought it was sweet. He would always kiss me on the lyric, 'Are you still mine?' and say, "Always."

'Oh my love, my darling.'

I looked at him as we swayed. He gave no indication of his intentions.

'I've hungered for your touch-"

Could _I _kiss _him_? Of course I could; I'm not afraid of things like that. _Should_ I was the question. His wife probably wouldn't mind. She was into that stuff.

"-a long, lonely time.'

But it would hurt him.

'And time goes by-"

I would never do it.

'So slowly, and time can do so much.'

But maybe _he _would...

-

_Mello was singing quietly to himself, lying on his bed in the room he shared with Matt. Unlike his lover, the blond wasn't tone deaf._

_Matt stuck his head in their door and heard him._

_'Are you still mine?'_

_Matt grinned and catapulted towards him, jumping at and lying right on him. Mello's breath was knocked out of him._

_'Always.' He kissed him deeply, tenderly as the older man fought to inhale._

-

My breath caught in the half-fear-half-hope that he would do it or say it. Or both. Preferably both.

'Are you still mine?'

And?

...

He didn't.

Naturally.

'I need your love, I need your love. Godspeed your love to me.'

I forced a grin when the song was over. I don't know how convincing I really was, but I did my best.

"Man Love moment," I said, trying to chuckle.

He didn't say anything, only nodding. He must remember too. Was he disgusted by the thought?

His wife abducted him and I tried to diffuse the awkward vibe by hitting on her cow of a sister. Matt looked a little bit relieved (as _if_ I was straight), and I aborted the mission as soon as I could.

As a testament to how bad the situation was, I actually sat down next to Near. He and I had started getting along better after Kira died and he became L beyond contention. Yeah, I didn't see it coming either. But then, I hadn't expected Matt to marry someone other than me, let alone a woman.

My powers of prediction must be off.

I sighed as I took a seat, my annoying tux tightening in annoying ways that my leather never did. Because my leather was _always _tight _everywhere_. And I looked damn good in it! Which Matt knew!

...And apparently was able to resist.

Anyway.

"You still love him," Near commented idly.

"No I don't," I lied mildly. It didn't even really count as a lie because we both knew it was about as likely as me _killing_ him. Or, if you'd rather: no fucking way in the fiery recesses of the special Hell.

He continued as if I had given an affirmative. "Are you going to be okay?"

Unusually compassionate for an ice cube. I guess he has empathy. Maybe.

I shrugged. He wasn't looking at me, still watching Matt and his wife dance, but he somehow seemed to see the motion. "Eventually."

"Really?"

He turned his creepy big eyes on me, a hand sneaking up to his hair. He'd never broken that habit, and it pissed me off. Okay, so I still wanted to beat the Q-tip to a pulp. Just once. But I didn't want to _kill _him anymore. I wasn't pointing a gun at his face. What do you want from me?!

I grinned at him, lopsided, hoping he couldn't see how hard it was to make that expression. "Maybe."

He nodded, and then watched the couple of the hour again.

I, however, had had enough of looking at Matt with someone other than me. I was best man, and I was Mello, so between those two things it was expected, it was practically a _duty_ in fact, for me to get at least mildly drunk. I _wanted_ to push alcohol poisoning levels, but I had to be able to get myself home without killing anyone, and I couldn't afford a cab. I could barely afford the gas to get here.

...So I couldn't even drink it away. Fantastic.

Needless to say, I left the MOMENT it was acceptable. Which, as best man, and as Mello, wasn't for a very long time.

I drove away like a maniac, though, and once home I collected all the chocolate I had in my apartment and put in Chocolat. Johnny Depp makes everything better. And Johnny Depp _eating chocolate_? Orgasmic.

-

_Matt took a chocolate truffle out of the box he had given Mello for his birthday. 'Can I?' he asked innocently._

_Mello agreed enthusiastically. Addicts always want other people to use too._

_The gamer smiled, and there was something evil about that smirk that made Mello more than a little bit afraid._

_He bit into the soft chocolate slowly, and a moan slipped out of this throat. He caressed the truffle with his tongue, swirling it all around, throwing back his head, gasping, scraping it gently with his teeth. He made extra sure to make the sound he always made in bed when Mello topped, a little mewling that he knew drove his lover crazy._

_Was that all really entirely necessary?_

_Mello thought so._

_Matt swallowed it and licked his lips, then his fingers, slowly, seductively._

_'What some more?' the blond croaked._

-

I hadn't thought about that for a while, and it made sense why: it almost physically hurt.

I shouldn't have let him marry her. I should have at _least_ told him I was still in love with him.

No.

Chocolat came to an end and I immediately popped in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Also with Johnny Depp. It was harder to drool over him in this version (that hair...), but not impossible. A true fanboy can drool in any situation.

When Augustus Gloop fell in the chocolate pond I squeezed my eyes shut and tried in vain to fight yet another memory.

-

_Mello was lying sprawled out on their couch, minding his own business, when he heard the kitchen door open and close. He turned to see what Matt was up to and his eyes went huge._

_Matt was covered, head to toe, in melted chocolate._

_'Hello Mello,' he said in his best uke voice, and Mello jumped him without another word._

-

Who else would do something like that without even being asked to? Seriously. And, man. _That_ had been fun. He had covered himself _everywhere_, and I got it all off. Very fun. Sticky, but fun.

There were still stains on the carpet where the event took place.

No amount of chocolate or chocolate-themed movies, Johnny Depp or no, would ever be able to stand up to that. To Matt. To the one I loved.

I put my head in my hands and wept for the first time since he left.


	3. Once an Addict

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**A/N: I really didn't know this fic was going to be continued, but apparently it is. XD xxbeyondxbirthdayxx, author of the highly excellent MxM fic 'Lithium,' which you should read [find it on my favorites list], asked me to continue. So... here we are. ^^ Hope you enjoy it!**

**Matt's POV**

She didn't push me that night; she just held me and stroked my hair, whispering soothing things to me until my sobs finally slowed. I eventually fell asleep in her arms.

When I stirred the next morning, I found that she had ordered room service, and she presented me with a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. Mello's favorite. She smiled concernedly at me. "Hey, good morning. Are you feeling better?"

I nodded mutely, not looking directly at her. "Oh, hey. Chocolate chip. My favorite. Thanks."

She acknowledged my thanks, but I knew her: she still wanted to know what had upset me so much.

How the hell was I supposed to explain it?

_'Dear, I'd like to enjoy our honeymoon, but, you see, I'm a flaming homosexual and I'm still in love with Mello. You know, best man at our wedding?'_

"Matt..." she started.

Inspiration struck. This was my chance. "That... that's... not my name," I said carefully. I looked up quickly to catch her reaction.

She blinked at me. "What?"

I took a deep breath. "My name's not Matt."

I watched her try to understand what I was saying. "Um... okay. Then... what _is_ your name...?"

"Mail."

"Mail Jeevas..." she said slowly, trying it out. She smiled a little to herself. "That's certainly... unique." Then, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you remember Kira?"

"Of course I do."

"You know how he's disappeared?"

"Yes..."

"Well, he's dead, and I kind of had a part in that."

"You _what_?!" she demanded.

"Before I met you, Mello and I worked on the Kira case, along with, well really _against_, Near. Mello was in the Mafia and I was his hacker and techie. When something electronic needed to be broken into or-" I swallowed at the memory "-rigged to explode, it was my job."

"You were in the Mafia?"

I took a deep breath. "Not exactly, but I was an associate. It was definitely illegal."

"Why would you _do_ that?!" she cried.

Fan, meet shit. Shit, meet fan. "Because Mello needed me," I said quietly.

The woman I had married became completely still, serene even, as understanding crossed her features. "Oh, I see," she finally murmured. "You've loved him that long, huh?"

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Wammy's... it's... for special kids. Smart kids. Really smart kids. Near was first, Mello was second, and I was third. Smartest, that is. Out of, um, I think it was 74. Anyway, Mello was always trying to beat Near, and we became friends because I never tried to beat _Mello_. So we grew up together. I've _always _loved him."

"Oh," she said awkwardly.

Silence.

"So..." she said after a long and very uncomfortable moment, during which my pancakes steamed merrily. "You were crying last night because you regret marrying me because you're still in love with Mello."

"I love you," I told her. Her face softened, and I reached out to hold it with my fingertips. "I do. You're... you're _incredible_. You're nice, you're smart, you're funny, and you're _so_ _beautiful_. But... you..." I struggled, gazing into her eyes, trying to make her understand, trying not to break this person in front of me who deserved more than being married to someone that could never love her properly. She was strong, but I was the one she _loved_. The one she wanted to spend the rest of her _life_ with. And here I was, the day after our wedding, telling her the last thing she ever thought she'd hear. "You're..."

"I'm not Mello," she answered for me. She removed my hands gently, and I let them fall to my lap, where I twisted my fingers together.

"Yeah," I confirmed in a whisper.

She nodded, once. "So if you felt like this, is there a reason you married me anyway?"

She sounded bitter, but only a little, and it was understandable. I would have understood if she'd shot me, actually. That's what Mello would have done.

"I didn't realize it until last night. I broke up with him years ago. I..." my voice trailed off and I frowned. He hadn't even seemed upset. If he was, I hadn't noticed. No, he _had_ to have been hurt. How had I not seen it? I shook my head to clear my mind. "I... I'm not going back to him or anything. He probably doesn't want me anyway, after how I ended it. We're just friends now."

She didn't say anything.

"So?" I prompted her eventually. "What do you want to do?"

She didn't answer me right away. She stared at the floor for a while, and I could see that she was trying to make a decision.

"Matt, or... Mail, you're my husband. You're also my best friend. I love you, no matter what. Even if all you just told me is true, I want you with me. I want... I want my video gamer and my chain smoker who's trying to quit and my puppy eyes and my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Those things are all you, even if the new stuff is, too. And that's what I want."

"Then I'll stay," I promised her quietly. I offered out my arms, she leaned into me, and I wrapped her in a tight embrace. She relaxed into me, and she _almost_ fit, but not as well as Mello did.

I'd have to stop comparing them. That wasn't fair to any of us.

We stayed that way for a long moment, and then she abruptly sat up. "You _do _love me," she said softly, barely audibly. "You really do." She fingered the soft fabric of the robe she was wearing. She looked up at me. "And I love you. So..."

Her shoulders dropped and her face became set. "So I'll give you the rest of your life. You have to go back to him."

I stared at her.

"You do," she said matter-of-factly. "If you stayed with me, we'd have a great life, a family, and I would be your best friend. You'd be content. But you'd never be _happy_. Not now that you've realized I'm not the one." She nodded because she couldn't force a smile. "I hope he wants you back, Mail. I really do. But you know me. I'm not going to accept second place for something like this. I'm not going to take you back just because he won't."

"I understand." I did.

Then she said more gently, "He'll want you, Matt. I mean Mail. I can't imagine anyone not wan-ting you." Her voice broke and I could see tears forming, but she valiantly held them back. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to ask you to leave now. I'll call you when I'm ready to."

"All right." I hugged her and she leaned into me. She wasn't shaking, but she never _was _one to shake before she cried. She didn't even usually cry a lot.

I let go, and her face was completely blank, stone still, holding back with everything she had.

"I'm sorry," I told her as I crossed the hotel room. I stepped out and closed the door behind me. A wave of sadness passed over me quickly because I was leaving what I _knew_ would have been a steady, content, and beautiful life on the chance of a life of incredible ups and unbearable downs, with the craziest person I'd ever met.

Mello. Even if it was only a chance, I had to take it.

Life without Mello... it was nice. It was _pleasant_, even great, but it wasn't _worth _it.

I'd been clean too long.

I needed my drug back.

**Will Mello take him back? Even **_**I **_**don't know yet!**

**About half the length of the previous chapters, but no one wants to read about Matt with this chick, anyway. I didn't even like **_**writing**_** about her; I can't imagine you enjoyed reading about her. -shakes head-**

**A/N: I totally love that Matt's wife doesn't get a name. XD I did it on purpose. ^^ There's no twist with her like actually being Misa or anything, no worries.**


	4. Always an Addict

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**A/N: I really hope you like this chapter! I worked hard on it, also trying to update in a timely manner. :)**

**Mello POV**

Pathetically, I cried myself to sleep, and I woke up a few hours later with my hair glued to a couch cushion and a chocolate bar molecularly bonded to my face. I rolled off the couch and lumped (_Yes _that's a verb! Shut the fuck up!) on the floor for a while, simply because I was too depressed/lazy/tired to get up. The floor was pretty comfortable anyway.

I sighed, noticing how the floor restricted my ribs from expanding to let me really get in a good breath. So, what, was I not even allowed to _breathe_ anymore? Couldn't I even get _oxygen_?

No Matt, no oxygen, what was next? No chocolate? No, I believed in God, who loves us and would never take chocolate away from us.

I licked lazily at the corner of my lip that I can reach, scrubbing off the live-giving solid (well, now it was really more of a paste, but that wasn't the point, now was it?) with my tongue. It tasted good, but it gave no comfort. I sighed pathetically again, not making any effort to move.

I didn't have any more tears, which was good, because this was a sign that maybe I would dehydrate to death right here. My tongue would swell up... fun!

I rolled over to lie just as uselessly on my side, getting a face full of Under the Couch.

...Oh.

So _that's_ where those went.

A pair of goggles.

Matt has several, but he likes those because the lenses aren't tinted, and he said he liked being able to see my, quote, "baby blue eyes." I never exactly agreed with his description, but I had liked that he thought my eyes were nice. I mean... that's just... _sweet_.

I reached out for them, curling my long, thin fingers around the strap and pulling them to me. Man, they must have been there for years. They _had_ to have been. Had he noticed that he'd left them? Was he _glad_ he had left them, because they'd remind him of me? Probably. He'd probably gotten rid of everything that reminded him of me as any more than his friend.

His friend. That title I would always have. The title that was now secured because of that woman he had married. That woman who wasn't me. And who was a woman... which was stupid because he had sworn up and down that he was gay, had enjoyed being fucked by me, and had _then_ gone and _married_ said woman.

Didn't he realize he was as gay as I am? And I mean, that's pretty gay. I'm not gonna lie. Really _fucking _gay, actually. Pun most certainly intended.

Alright, so he had married a woman. What was _I _supposed to do, now? Should _I_ marry a woman? _Could _I marry a woman? Would any woman _like_ a guy like me? I mean, with the leather and the hair and the attitude? Could I ever like a woman enough to marry her? Could I ever like _anyone_ enough to marry them? Anyone besides Matt?

Funny thought, huh? Matt had always been the only person on this planet that I could stand. The only person that, not only _could_ I stand, but I _wanted_ to stand. All the time. Every day. Forever. I wanted to wake up next to him and kiss him good morning and eat breakfast with him and then kiss him goodbye, and then when I came home I wanted to kiss him again and then watch TV with him, or whatever we wanted to do, and I wanted to eat dinner with him and then kiss him goodnight and then sleep with him, and hold him in my arms all night long. And if he had a nightmare, which he sometimes did, I wanted to kiss it away, hold his face and stroke his hair and kiss it all away, telling him how beautiful he is and how incredible he is and how, more than anything or anyone else in the world, I love _him_. And if _I _had a nightmare, I wanted him to wake me up and just hold me without a word, like he did every time I started screaming in my sleep, seeing the faces off all those men I'd killed, and I wanted him to nuzzle into my hair and let me shake and moan and then I wanted him to never mention it again, ever, like always, unless _I_ brought it up.

And I wanted the little camps he made around his game systems when he got a new game, with crushed, empty cans of energy drinks and the abandoned food wrappers that started to stink when they built up over the days. I wanted the monosyllable answers and the fried look in his eyes when I demanded his attention for something when he had been playing for days on end. I wanted to be forced to use my body to distract him, and then to watch the life and the humor come back into his eyes, along with that sharp intelligence that he totally neglected. And I wanted to get annoyed at the tinny video game music that I really thought was cool and he knew it, and I wanted to watch him beat a boss on a game he'd been working on for so long, relatively, and I wanted him to win and I wanted him to jump to his feet and whoop and do the little dance he does every time he beats a game, and then I wanted him to kiss me like he did every time he finished his dance, and I wanted to call him a nerd with a grin on my face and for him to say "damn straight" and kiss my breath away.

And I wanted the assorted annoyances. I wanted the clogged toilets because he uses too much toilet paper. I wanted him to yell at me for drinking too much. I wanted his clothes strewn across the floor. I wanted him to burn what he was trying to cook and make the whole house stink. I wanted the cigarette smoke that he usually tried to limit to outdoors. I wanted him to complain about how I keep breaking our stuff. I wanted him to accidentally drop a dish. I wanted him to forget to flush the toilet. I wanted him to stay at work for too long so that I could ravish him when he came back, and I wanted how much _he_ wanted that, every time. I wanted him to call me all the nicknames I hated: princess, girlie, baby, cupcakes, Wife, Husband, Jello-Mello-Fellow, teacup, and all the names I loved: my love, psycho, sexy, beautiful... Mels... My favorite, Mels, the thing that everyone else was afraid to call me... that only he... that only Matt had... had ever...

Matt... he...

I had no more tears but I sobbed. They were dry, but my muscles still spasemed, my thin frame shuddering, clutching his goggles stereotypically until they nearly made my palms bleed, my entire body being put into this as my heart broke once and for all, beyond repair. He was gone. I had lost him, and he was gone. And he wasn't coming back, because he was happier without me, and because he was probably better _off_ without me, and because he didn't know or he didn't care that I was sobbing on the floor, my body curling up without my instruction, my arms wrapping around me, trying to hold myself together when clearly I was breaking apart. And there were only my arms now, not his, and I was all alone, and no one else wanted me, and _I _didn't even want me, not the way I was right now, and now my sobs _hurt_ and I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to. I'd never cried this hard, never.

I wanted Matt, and I was never going to have Matt, and there was nothing- for the first time in my life- that I could do, because anything that made me happy at this point would hurt _him_, and so, shuddering, I curled up as tight as I could and let the memories of what I'd lost flood me as I wept on my living room floor.

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**A/N: There has to be angst for there to be a happy ending! Bear with me! **


	5. Loving the Sun

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**POV's will change more rapidly now. Either one or two more chapters! :D**

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**Matt POV**

It was raining, of course, and since I had hadn't exactly brought my car keys to my wedding (or my wallet, or anything _else_, I was going to have to walk. I knew where he lived; I'd lived there too for several years.

Years.

Would those years worth of memories be enough?

No.

But I had to try.

I didn't pick up speed, as anxious as I was, because I knew I had about twelve miles to walk and I'd rather not collapse on the side of the road. At least, not before seeing Mello one more time and telling him I'd screwed up. I knew I wasn't in good enough shape to make it there in a timely manner. It would be dark by the time I got to him. What if he was out?

Easy, I'd sleep by his door and wait for him to come back.

I walked for hours, mentally praising every videogame that had led to me developing a sense of direction. I didn't know exactly where I was, but I knew where I was going so it would be okay. I walked until my feet bled in my dress shoes and my shirt stuck to me with sweat, and then I kept walking. It was getting dark, and because of the lack of streetlights, I could see about a million stars. I glanced at them but they couldn't hold my interest. Last time I had looked at stars, it had been with Mello and only because he had made me. And by making me, I mean he'd asked me and I had immediately jumped to my feet. Besides, when you've loved the sun, it's impossible to long for the stars.

I was in a little town that I vaguely recognized as the one next to the town we lived in. I mean, the town _he_ lived in. It wasn't the friendliest part of town, but no one would get near me: I was still the Mafia boss's best friend, even if I was no longer his lover.

I smiled slightly to myself, remembering. They hadn't been happy when they figured out that Mello's lover was a guy. Mello had promptly shot everyone that expressed a problem with it and promoted anyone who hadn't. In his division, it's practically an honor to be gay now. Some guys even fake it to get a promotion, which Mello finds absolutely hysterical.

Who else could do something like that but Mello?

...and why the hell hadn't I realized this years ago? Or even two days ago? Why'd I have to bring my (ex) wife into this, and screw up her life, too? Why am I _so stupid_ that I could convince myself that his insanity isn't worth having_ him_? Why'd I talk myself into leaving him when it nearly killed me, too??

Worse, how could I have done this to Mello?

I might have even made him cry, at least at the beginning. But he was probably over me by now. If nothing else, Mello's tough. I mean, I broke up with him _years_ ago. He would have had to have loved me a _lot_ to still be hanging onto his feelings. And I'm just not that special, that someone should want me for years and years.

I could see the edge of our town now, and I broke into a jog. It would probably kill me, but I couldn't wait anymore. Whoa, I was _running_? What did _that_ say? It was against Matt Code to run for any reason, and now here I was, sprinting. I was sure I'd never run this fast in my life, and still I kicked it up a notch. I wanted him. Now.

**Mello POV**

I sat up. Sadly, it took almost all the energy I had. I needed some hygiene; it wasn't funny anymore. Plus, there was the possibility that I might hit my head, pass out, and then drown in the shower. Which I wouldn't object to, at this point. Because, seriously? If I was just going to lie around feeling like this all the time, then what was the point?

I wasn't going to kill myself, but I wouldn't exactly stop myself from dying if the opportunity presented itself.

With my luck, I'd probably live to be ninety. How many depressed gay Mafia bosses live to be ninety?? I would be the first. And that would be something Near would never be able to beat. So there.

Now I've jinxed it. Just watch the little bastard change teams, take over the Mafia, and then live to be one hundred. Yes I'm friends with him now, what's your point?

I slouched over to the bathroom and stripped apathetically, dropping the rental tux irreverently in the corner. It didn't deserve nice folding: it was part of the Matt Marrying Not Me conspiracy. I'd probably shoot it later, when I decided it was safe for me to be anywhere near a gun.

I turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. When it did, I stepped in heavily and just stood under the stream. The sound of the falling water striking the porcelain filled my ears, the steam filled my eyes, and the smell of cleanness filled my nose. It felt good on my muscles, sore from my awkward sleeping position, and on my scalp, which just always felt good. Matt used to stroke my hair. Couldn't I go two minutes without thinking about him? Clearly not.

I just...

I stopped my brain before it could continue down that line again. Yes, I loved him. Yes, I probably _would_ love him until the day I died. Yes, he was absolutely everything to me and the only reason I had for living. Yes, the thought of living without him, without even the _hope _that he might come back to me, made me want to lie right back down on the floor. Yes, I'd apparently never get over him. But that was fine. He was married, and we were still best friends. It was completely fine and I could deal with it, because I'm Mello and Mello can deal with stuff like that. Because he's Mello. And Mello's awesome.

I frowned and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower. Steam covered the mirror and I wiped it away. The apartment was eerily silent now that the water wasn't deafening me, so I hurried out of the bathroom (naked) and turned on the radio, cranking it up.

Okay, so I have this thing about radios. For some reason they make me want to clean. It's like a compulsion: I can't help it. As soon as the music turned on I became anxious, shifting my weight from foot to foot. Now was not the time to be cleaning, it was the time to be...

Well, what, exactly? Why _not_ clean? Wasn't it better than lying prone?

I went to my room and pulled on the only non-leather outfit that I had, putting my hair up out of my way.

I scanned the little apartment. Filth and depressing memories. I'd remember everything about him anyway, why should I have to see things that just torment me? I wasn't trying to forget him... just... If I couldn't have him, I at least wanted to _function_. ...he needed his best friend, and I couldn't show him this face.

And so... the first thing to go would have to be that chocolate-stained patch of carpet. Unfortunately I had about twelve dollars, which had to last me a week, so I wasn't really able to afford recarpeting.

So I'd improvise. I was the second smartest person in an orphanage of smart kids. I could do this.

And plus, I had an extremely sharp Exacto knife.

Oh yeah, I was definitely gonna cut a big square out of my carpet, landlord can fuck himself, and I was _definitely _going to cover over the hole with...

Oh! I'd cut out a square from under my bed!

Excellent.

Slightly cheered by the thought of cutting something up, I dashed over to the stain and measured the area I planned to cut out. Then I ran into my room and shoved the bed out of the way. I took another quick measurement and chopped it up, then shoved the bed right back. Perfect. Couldn't even tell there was a gaping hole there.

I replaced the stained carpet with the new square.

Not that _that_ wasn't stained too, but _those_ stains didn't hurt. It was an obvious patch, but somehow it was still... better.

I left the rejected square of carpet by the door, I'd take it out later.

Now what else would fall victim to my cleaning abilities? The kitchen. Definitely the kitchen next.

**Matt POV**

In retrospect, I shouldn't have used the knock that he knew was mine. It was the Star Wars intro song. You know, with the scrolling words. I did it without thinking: it was just how I always knocked on this door and how he had always known it was me, to come to the door even if he was naked or whatever. It _had_ been since we were kids at Wammy's.

At first, I thought he didn't hear me over the water of the shower, but the water immediately turned off so I knew he had. There was silence. Was he coming to the door? Was he mad? If so, was he mad about me leaving him or about something new? With him, it was hard to know when you'd done something wrong until he yelled at you for it. I mean, I'd been to his house since we'd broken up. It hadn't been awkward or anything, we'd just chatted or whatever.

Suddenly the radio was blasting, and I knew he would begin cleaning soon. He can't help cleaning when he hears the radio.

So he _had_ heard me, and he turned on the radio to pretend he hadn't.

My heart sank all the way down to my cramped and gently bleeding toes. I turned away from the door. I couldn't stay here if he really didn't want me.

Good thing I had given up what she defined as 'contentment' for _this_.

**A/N: Don't shoot! I promise it will have a happy ending! Eventually!**


	6. Right

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**A/N: Hi! Prepare for cheesiness!**

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**Matt POV**

I made it as far as the stairs in front of his apartment, which were a grand total of about four steps away from his door, before turning around. Okay, fine, so he was mad at me. That didn't mean I couldn't tell him what I'd done and what I'd decided.

I walked back up to his door, automatically going for my keys. I still had a key to his place. But, of course, I didn't have my keys on me. Yet another reason to talk to him: I needed a place to stay for the night and I had no money. He'd probably let me crash there. Maybe. Possibly? Well, it could happen.

Mello tended to lock himself out, so in an effort to get him to stop shooting the doorknob, I had designated a spot for a spare key under a loose board in the floor, right next to the door.

It took me a minute, but I found it. I pulled it up, and the key was still there. And the door was intact. My idea had worked.

I took a deep breath and inserted the key into the door.

**Mello POV**

The kitchen was now cleaner than it had ever been before and would ever be again. Unfortunately the station I had the radio tuned to was on a 'three hours of uninterrupted music' marathon, which meant that I was going to be cleaning for the next three hours. I could probably do the whole apartment in that time.

I dug the neglected vacuum out of a closet and plugged it in. I was surprised that it still worked, but pleased. It smoked a little, but that would probably be okay. I mean, it wouldn't blow up or anything. Right?

It was the loudest vacuum in existence, and so I received absolutely no warning for what happened next.

I dropped the vacuum and it stuttered to death. The cord was ripped from the wall and apparently that freaked out the circuits or something, because the radio, which was also plugged into that socket, was immediately silenced. Or maybe the radio just shut up in reaction to the emotions that must have been rolling off my body, because Matt was standing right in front of me.

He was still in his dress shirt, although it was sweaty and badly crumpled, and his dress pants and shoes. His hair was stuck to his head, damp, and he smelled... 'very bad' was a decent description. His goggles were nowhere in sight, and his now unprotected blue eyes were locked with mine.

"Hey," I managed to croak out, trying to sound casual. I really hoped he couldn't tell that I had been crying less than an hour ago. The shower had probably helped with that, but he could be perceptive when he wasn't blocking it on purpose.

"Hi," he replied blankly.

He continued to stare at me. "Um... what's up?" I said after a moment. Why was he here when he was supposed to be on his honeymoon? I forced out a chuckle. "What, your wife kick you out already?"

"No, she gave me a choice," he said.

What?

"Care to elaborate?" I said sarcastically, righting the vacuum and wrapping the cord around it before unceremoniously shoving it back into its closet.

"Well, I told her that I'm still in love with you and she let me come here."

...

I almost vomited. How could he possibly still be in love with me? How could he marry someone else if he was still in love with me? How could he ignore the Unchained Melody tradition if he was still in love with me? How could he want me to hit on his wife's sister if he was still in love with me? How could he _leave_ me if he was still in love with me?! How could he let me get to the point where I didn't care if I _died_ if he was still in love with me?! Dammit, he wasn't in love with me!

"Don't fuck with me," I told him quietly, dangerously. Anyone else and they'd already have a bullet through their head and several of their vital organs. You don't mess with me like that.

His expression (hurt, startled, bewildered) confused me, but there was one thing I knew was true: he didn't love me. There was no way he _could_. It was simply too good to be true, and therefore it wasn't.

"Mello, I'm not-"

"Get out of my house."

"Mello, please, at least-"

"Out."

"Mihael, I-"

"Don't you _dare_ use my real name and _get the _fuck_ out of my _house!" I screamed at him.

He didn't move, he simply gaped at me. I remembered that I had never screamed at him quite that hard before. I mean, yeah, we fought a lot, but never like this. Plus, I'd developed my screaming abilities a bit over the years. Good. Maybe he'd take the hint then.

I dropped my voice to a low, deadly quiet. "Get out." I took a threatening panther-step towards him, but he still didn't move. Probably because he knew I'd never, ever hurt him. Ever. Even if the fate of everyone in the world except him but _including me _depended on it, I would never lay a finger on him. No matter what.

I took another step, then another, and then I was right in front of him, and I wrapped my arms around his waist and my head fell on his shoulder and I wept.

He was stone beneath me, but I could understand that. He probably hadn't expected me to react this way about a joke, and he'd only seen me cry maybe three times outside of my pitiable inability to handle thunderstorms.

I couldn't let go, I just hung on and wept.

"Matt," I forced out. "I know you're joking, but I'm... I'm so pathetic without you. The last few years have just been so... pathetic. And I cried all night last night, and I couldn't even move, and it's all just... pathetic. So pathetic. So I can't take the joke. Please don't say it again, okay?"

I felt his muscles relax and his arms came around me. He put his chin on my head like he always used to and I was immediately calm. Well, relatively.

"Mels," he said softly. "I swear to you. I'm not joking."

He kissed the top of my head slowly, and I could feel him breathing in, inhaling my scent the same way I was grasping at his.

**Matt POV**

I could see the exact moment that he finally believed me, and when he kissed me, the anger at how hard he was to live with was gone, the hurt of hurting him was gone, the perpetual, almost unnoticeable dull ache of being away from him was gone, it all disappeared the moment our lips touched, and for the first time in _years_ I was high. They say that once you've been off a drug for a while, the relapse hit is like your first one, that it's that good all over again. I now knew that this was true, and when he deepened the kiss my mind burst into fireworks and electricity and color and light. How could I have given him up? His power and his grace, his energy, his emotions, his softness, his touch, his _intensity,_ his mind, his body, his soul. His beautiful contradictions that made him utterly _impossible_ to figure out; the angel in leather, the sensitive hard-ass. How could I have ever thought that I'd be able to find someone better, that I could love him but move on, that I could ever get over _this_, the feeling that I always got around him of being so very alive. Of being on fire, of _playing_ with fire, no, of dancing around fire, so close that my skin was crisping and one step could set me alight. I hadn't even known I had reverted over the years to what I would _always_ have been if I'd never met him: distant, cold, mono-emotional. I melted into him (the feeling was so familiar!) and he held me tight, and when the kiss ended, he pulled me into him and held me even tighter.

"I missed you," he told me.

"I missed you too." I realized exactly how true it was. "Take me back," I said suddenly.

"Obviously."

He kissed me again, hard, desperately, and I'd never tasted so much longing in a kiss before. I pressed into him as much as I could, trying to make us one person so we'd never be separated again, no matter what. I could feel him all over me, I could hear his pulse racing and his breath hitching. And my bleeding feet and my aching body and my screwed up life were all worth it, _more_ than worth it, because nothing could compare to this. Nothing. There was no one else but Mello.

This, finally, was right.

**A/N: The end! I hope you liked it?**


	7. Epilogue: The Art of Eavesdropping

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**A/N: RavenFire40 (She rocks- seriously, she reviews **_**everything**_**, and that's just awesome) challenged me to write another chapter, and Orange Burst requested one. Between them, I had no choice but to accept. If you're happy about this, thank those two. If you're annoyed that this fic doesn't seem to be ending, blame them not me ^_^ But I hope you enjoy it. :)**

**Mello POV**

He wife called him two weeks after he came back to me. He wouldn't tell me exactly what she said, just that she forgave him and asked how he was doing, if I'd taken him back. He wouldn't tell me more than that.

Luckily, I had been listening in on the other phone, and I knew exactly what she had asked him.

"Matt, are you happy?"

I'd listened just as raptly as she had, if not more, because, hey, I needed to know!

But he said he was, and both she and I, because we love him, could tell he wasn't lying.

I hung up quickly when I heard him coming up the steps.

"Mels?"

I threw myself onto the bed on my stomach, grabbing the first book I could find and shoving it at my face. Because I was reading. I wasn't eavesdropping, I was reading.

He stood in the doorway a minute, knowing me too well. He came over, already grinning.

"Why are you reading Pride and Prejudice? Developing a thing for Mr. Darcy?"

"He was the first bad boy," I informed my boyfriend solemnly. "You gotta respect it. The whole thing's like one giant foreplay. It's pretty hardcore."

"Whatever you say," he offered, lying perpendicular to me, his head resting on my back.

I craned around and smiled at him. "Hi."

"Hey."

And that's all we had to say. It had only been two weeks, but it was like he'd never been gone. We'd already had two and a half fights (one of the fights had been about whether or not the previous fight counted as a fight, so we compromised with it being a 'half fight') and he'd already moved back in. Yeah, it was awkward, but... I guess when you've always loved someone, things just fall back into place. When I never _stopped_ expecting to see his face coming around the corner it wasn't strange when it finally _did_. It was just... Matt. Matt chills me out. It's what he does. Not all the way, of course, because you'd have to cryogenically freeze me to ever fully cool me down, but I'm a little more... mellow around him.

He makes me corny, too, did you notice?

We lay there for a while, me pretending to read, him pretending to nap, both of us just enjoying the other's company.

And that's... just all there was to it. And it's how it would remain.

I found myself humming our by-now infamous song, and even without the words, he knew when to roll over and kiss me.

A tip: never kiss me while I'm on a bed. You _will_ get taken, whether you agree or I have to add rape to my already sizable resume of illegal activities.

He knew that and he did it anyway, which, in my book, is consent.

Anyway, when that business was over (Sorry, no, I'm not gonna describe what my boyfriend looks like naked... panting... crying out my name... sweating and clawing at my back... moaning... arching his spine... ha-ha, he's mine, not yours), as we lounged on the bed, I nuzzled into his hair. "We're living in sin," I stated.

"Again. And in so many ways," he added cheerfully.

"I'm probably going to Hell anyway, right?"

"Yep."

"You're supposed to call me an angel and tell me I'm going straight to Heaven, jackass."

"See? Cussing. And I happen to know you blaspheme all the time. And the fucking and the drugs and the murder and the theft and the kidnapping and the-"

"Got it, honey. Thanks for the support."

"Any time, darling."

I swallowed my laughter, my shoulders shaking, and squeezed him. "You're a cunt."

"And you're a fucktard," he replied mildly.

"Love you, shit-face," I said sweetly.

"'Love you too, dickwad." He paused, looked down for a moment, and then smiled up at me through his burgundy hair. My heart beat faster as it often did when he looked at me.

"Always," he added at a whisper.

I kissed him.

Take that, bitch. He _is_ happier with me.

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**A/N: ...I'm sorry. That's all I can say. . It came out sickeningly sweet.**

**Review= paper bag to catch the vomit.**


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